


Together for Christmas

by Goldenbuttons



Series: Changes [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-20 17:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldenbuttons/pseuds/Goldenbuttons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock are home from hospital; Cathy is looking forward to sharing Christmas with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Two years ago, John and Cathy had just met. They threw a Christmas party to meet one another’s families, but John went to Harry’s and Cathy went to her parents for Christmas itself. 

Last Christmas, Sherlock had only just returned, and the joy of the season was caught up in their joy at having him home.

This Christmas, John and Cathy’s first since their wedding, was going to be special, if for no other reason than that for a few hours, Cathy had feared she would lose one or both of her housemates. It soon became clear that their injuries were not life threatening, but for a while, they seemed to be life changing in all sorts of negative ways.

It had taken a few weeks after John and Sherlock had come home from hospital for them to regain their mobility. John had been able to go up stairs with help from the start and unassisted within a couple of weeks, but Sherlock had not gone up or down stairs at all for the first three weeks. He did not take well to being injured, not really accepting the limitations imposed on him by his broken leg. The other injuries had healed, and a month after the accident he was again complaining of being bored, but he was still unable to get to his own flat without assistance. He complained that Cathy was fussing when she had set up the ground floor guest bedroom (formerly Mrs Hudson’s) for him but once he had settled in he seemed reluctant to move back to the basement flat. He issued instructions for what Cathy should bring upstairs from his flat, but seemed almost scared to go downstairs. In the meantime, he had spread cold case files over every available surface and Greg had threatened to bar his number if he didn’t stop making twenty or more calls a day.

Six weeks after John and Sherlock came home, Mycroft came around to tell them that their nurse/physiotherapists would be leaving the next day. If they still needed to have daily sessions with a physiotherapist, Mycroft suggested that they take a cab. Anyone who didn’t know him well would have missed the fleeting look of fear on Sherlock’s face. John really didn’t need much more physiotherapy himself; there were a few exercises which he had found helpful in increasing the mobility and flexibility of both his ankle and shoulder, but there was nothing new for him to learn, his recovery would just take time and repetition of the same exercises. Nevertheless, he decided to accompany Sherlock every morning on the cab ride there and back. On the first day after Paul and David had left, Sherlock had taken so long to get showered and dressed that John had to ring to postpone their appointments. 

“John, we don’t need to go EVERY day. I’m tired, I want to go back to bed.” 

“You! Back to bed in the middle of the day? I don’t believe it, Sherlock, you never voluntarily sleep. Are you sure you’re not ill?” 

“No, that’s what it is, I don’t feel well, I can’t go.” 

“Well, I hope you sleep well, I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” 

“You’re going? You can’t go, you need to stay here with me. You shouldn’t go out alone. What if I needed help?” 

“Sherlock.” 

“WHAT.” 

“Are you ummm...” 

“What? Am I sick? Yes. Am I tired? Yes. Am I going out? No. Satisfied?” 

“Sherlock, we need to go. I am nearly OK, but you still have a lot of rehabilitation in front of you.” 

“I’m not going”, said with a stubborn set of the jaw. 

Suddenly John realised, “Sherlock, if we go out of the building, it doesn’t mean that we will be hit by a car.” 

“Do you know that? Are you certain? Can you guarantee, 100% definitely that a car will never again came at you?” 

John sensed an unfamiliar rising hysteria in Sherlock’s voice. “Sherlock, it was an accident. It COULD happen again, but it’s not likely. If you and I are to die not in our own beds, it’s far more likely to not be an accident. We are probably going to be killed by a criminal. That doesn’t stop us chasing them; it shouldn’t stop us solving crimes.” 

“I don’t care, I’m not leaving the house, and I need you to stay here to look after me. You can’t go out John.” 

Reluctantly, John rang the physiotherapist’s office to cancel their appointments.

When Cathy got home, Sherlock was asleep, well, maybe not asleep, but definitely in his room with the door closed. 

“How was your ‘outing’?” 

“We didn’t go” 

“Why not?” John explained that Sherlock had apparently decided that he and John were to spend the rest of their lives in the house. 

“I think that despite all the risks we take on every case, he had simply never considered that we might actually be killed or injured. If he had ever thought about it, he had just imagined that whatever happened to him, I’d put a bandaid on it and he would be fine. And the things that he has done to stop me being hurt, well, he just thought that would be enough. He had never contemplated not being able to save me. He’s hurt and he’s scared and I’m not sure what to do about it.” 

“So what have you done about it?” 

“I rescheduled for tomorrow. We’ll try again.”

The next morning, knowing that Sherlock might be difficult again, John was ready in plenty of time. 

“Come on Sherlock, we have to leave in 45 minutes if we are to make it on time.” 

“Not going” 

“what do you mean, not going? Of course we’re going. We NEED physiotherapy if we are to get back to full mobility.” 

“I can’t go” 

“Of course you can go.” 

“Anyway I don’t need full mobility. Most of our cases can be easily solved without me leaving the building.” 

“Sherlock, you are being utterly ridiculous, get your clothes on and let’s go.” 

“Ridiculous? I’m not being ridiculous. Refusing to find new ways to solve crimes, now that is ridiculous. Anyway, I don’t have any clothes to wear.” 

“What?” 

“Are you deaf? I don’t have any clothes. You and Cathy with your ridiculous insistence that I eat EVERY day, and I can’t move enough to use it up, I’ve put on five pounds since it happened. None of my clothes fit me. I can hardly go out in my pyjamas.” 

John rolled his eyes, and went to phone the physiotherapist’s office to arrange for a home visit.

After a week’s worth of home visits, John and Sherlock were both far more mobile and physically ready to, if not run, then at least walk. Sherlock had moved back into his own room and made the trip up to the ground floor every day. 

A few days later, John spoke to Greg and arranged for him to call them into Scotland Yard to look at some case files. When the time came for them to leave, Sherlock again insisted that he had no clothes. 

“Sherlock, I know they aren’t as stylish as usual, but Cathy has bought you some totally acceptable clothes. Get dressed and then we can leave.” 

“Can’t.” 

“what do you mean, can’t? Of course you can. Just put on one of the pairs of trousers and shirt Cathy bought for you the day before yesterday.” 

“Cant’. They are dirty, I’ve put them in the washing machine.” 

“She bought you three of each, they can’t all be dirty yet.” 

“Well they are. I spilled an experiment on them.” John gave up and called Greg.

When Cathy got home, her first question was about how their day at Scotland Yard had gone. When John explained, she was dumbfounded. 

“What if we asked Mycroft to send a car to pick you up? He would only have to walk from the door to the kerb, if he could do that a few times then we might be able to get him to call a cab. If we can’t get him to that stage, he really won’t be able to work, and then he will drive himself, and us, totally crazy.” 

John immediately rang Mycroft and without giving any details of today’s cancelled trip (he probably already knew it all anyway), John asked if Mycroft could arrange for a car to pick them up in the morning. 

“John, don’t you think that this would just be pandering to his selfishness? I don’t see this as a solution.” 

“Mycroft, it’s not selfish. He honestly fears that if we leave the house, we will be hurt. He is as scared for me as he is for himself. I just need to show him that if we go somewhere, we will be fine, and over time he will overcome his fear.” 

“Does he need to see a therapist? I can have one come to the house.” 

“Maybe, but not yet. Let’s try a few other things first. If there’s no improvement in the next couple of weeks, we’ll get someone to come to the house to help him.” 

“What time do you want to get there?” 

“10am” 

“The car will be there at 9.45. If necessary, the driver will help you get him in the car.”

Once more, Sherlock refused to co-operate. In the morning, he insisted that he was far too tired to go out. If Greg wanted him to look at some files, Greg would have to bring them to Baker Street. Eventually, the driver and John forced him into the car but he sulked the whole time from leaving the house until their return. He went down the stairs to his room and loudly slammed the door.

By now, John had returned to work. As November turned into December, John and Cathy were busily planning for their first married Christmas. Gifts were being bought, the pantry was stocked, guests had been invited and now that Sherlock had returned to his own room, the guest room had been prepared for Cathy’s parents.

Early on a Thursday afternoon, Sherlock’s mobile phone rang; he looked at the display and answered 

“Cathy, John isn’t here, you have rung the wrong number.” 

“No Sherlock, I tried his phone but it’s turned off, so he must be with patients. I’m at my doctor’s and they won’t let me leave until someone arrives to take me home.” 

“Why?” 

“It’s a long story, can you please, please come and collect me? I’ll tell you when you get here.” Within moments, Sherlock had hobbled up the stairs, rushed out the door and hailed a cab. He gave the address of the doctor’s and then added 

”There is an extra £50 if you get me there within five minutes.” Naturally, they arrived in four minutes and Sherlock instructed the driver to wait until he returned with his ‘sister’. 

When they returned to Baker Street and the cabbie had been suitably paid, Sherlock carefully helped Cathy inside. 

“Now tell me. What happened? Why were you at the doctor’s instead of at school?” 

“I fainted in my class. One of my colleagues drove me to the doctor’s but she had to go back to work.” 

“What do you mean, fainted? Oh, you can’t be...you are... no, you told me that you wouldn’t try until after Christmas, you ARE, aren’t you?” 

“Yes Sherlock, I am. I know we planned to try after Christmas, but when you had your accident and I realised that I could have lost John, we decided to start trying straight away. I didn’t know until today. John still doesn’t know. You cannot tell him, please Sherlock, you mustn’t tell him until I see him.” 

“But Cathy, you told me you weren’t going to try yet, and you didn’t tell me when you changed your mind.” Cathy had never seen him look so crestfallen. 

“Sherlock, please forgive us. I know we hadn’t thought we would try yet, but when we decided that we wanted a baby sooner rather than later, well, I just didn’t think I could handle the scrutiny. I knew you would want to track our lovemaking, and I know it sometimes takes a while to get pregnant, I just didn’t think I could stand being quizzed every month. Forgive me. Please. Just remember, you’re going to be an uncle by the middle of next year.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cathy would have loved to have kept her secret for just a little while longer.

Over the next few weeks, Cathy frequently wished that she had been able to keep her pregnancy a secret, not only from Sherlock but even from John. The friends were not only excited about the coming baby, they were oppressively anxious about Cathy’s every move. 

When John had arrived home that afternoon Cathy firstly told him the good news that Sherlock had finally left the house willingly, for the first time since his accident. It was only then, when she explained that he had picked her up from her doctor’s, that she had told John their great news. As she expected, John had been thrilled, but worried about Cathy. 

“John, it’s OK. I’m a bit anaemic, and my blood pressure is a bit low. The doctor insists that I need to rest tomorrow and take it easy over the weekend, and I should be fine for work on Monday. I have to take some pregnancy vitamins and an extra iron supplement, and I will be absolutely fine.” 

John remained unconvinced. Although Cathy appeared healthy, sometimes John’s medical knowledge meant that he knew and feared every possible complication.

By midday Friday, Cathy was almost ready to scream at both John and Sherlock-she was a little tired and if she stood up quickly she became dizzy, but otherwise she felt well; they insisted on treating her as a breakable glass ornament.

Over the weekend, they debated when to tell their families and friends. Cathy was reluctant to tell them yet. 

“I’m only six weeks, I’d rather be a bit further along before we tell everyone. I don’t want to be treated like an invalid, and I don’t think I could handle my mother fussing for another seven and a half months.” 

John and Sherlock on the other hand wanted to tell the world as soon as possible. They compromised by agreeing to tell their families in a fortnight when they gathered together to celebrate Christmas.

Cathy returned to work on Monday, passing off her fainting spell on Thursday as a bit of a cold compounded by overdoing things. She came home to find John and Sherlock had pulled all of  
the furniture out of one of the upstairs bedrooms and were poring over colour cards and nursery catalogues. It was going to be a long seven and a half months!

On 23rd December, Cathy’s parents arrived to stay for a few days. As they sat down for dinner, Cathy couldn’t wait any longer and burst out with their news. As expected, Tom and Ellen were overjoyed, and immediately started planning. 

“I’ll talk to Peter and Caroline, if they have finished with Alexander’s crib they might be happy for you to use it-you only need it for a few months.” 

After dinner while Ellen, John and Sherlock looked at the catalogues and discussed colour schemes, Cathy and Tom escaped to the sitting room for what they knew might be their last quiet moments for some time.

On Christmas Day, the extended family gathered at 221 Baker Street for a long traditional lunch. Peter, Caroline, Mike, Emma and Harry expressed great joy at the prospect of being aunts and uncles, while Mycroft’s expression left Cathy wondering, not for the first time, just how much he had already known. 

“Sherlock, are you comfortable with Mycroft being an honorary uncle too? Obviously you are going to be the one person apart from John and me who will have the biggest part in its life, but you really can’t have too many aunts and uncles, can you? If you object, I’ll be quite happy to not include him as an uncle, but it would be nice if we could ask him if he would like to be known as Uncle Mycroft. It’s entirely up to you.” 

Cathy half expected him to object; from what she had been told by John, their relationship had improved a lot, but it was still not warm. Nevertheless, he nodded his assent, and watched as Cathy went over to whisper in Mycroft’s ear, and saw the surprised smile soften his brother’s face. 

Cathy and her sister-in-law Caroline had never really been close, but today Caroline seemed delighted to be able to share pregnancy and motherhood advice. Cathy hoped that her baby would be able to spend a lot of time with Hannah and Alexander.

After lunch, Mike and Emma announced that they also wanted to announce their great news, not a baby but an engagement. Cathy couldn’t help but wonder whether their announcement meant that, after nearly five years together, they too had decided to try for a baby.

As Sherlock had said before, murders at Christmas tended to be domestic, and therefore, in his opinion, ‘boring’. A bored Sherlock was no-one’s idea of fun. The best that anyone could hope for was that he might start some more experiments; hopefully they wouldn’t be TOO noxious. After being driven crazy by a bored Sherlock on Boxing Day, Cathy was inspired to send John, Sherlock and Thomas to the shops as soon as they opened to buy paint to decorate the nursery. After much discussion, they had decided on a colour scheme of aqua walls and pale yellow trim, leaving the white ceiling untouched. Cathy and her mother set off to buy curtains and bedding and look at baby patterns. 

Sherlock had obviously never painted a room before. While everyone else was dressed in old casual clothes and starting to prepare the walls and ceiling, Sherlock, dressed in one of his beautifully cut suits, wanted to start painting immediately. With difficulty, he was persuaded that the walls needed to be washed and drop sheets placed on every surface before the first paint tin could be opened. He reluctantly agreed that when they started to paint later in the week, he would wear the larger sized clothes Cathy had bought when he had gained a little weight earlier in the year. 

“At least if you spill some paint, it really won’t matter and I won’t feel that the clothes I bought for you have been wasted. You might not believe it but nearly everyone has clothes like that for mucking around in. You should have seen us when we were renovating this place. That’s the reason the room won’t need much preparation –we did all the major work while you were away.” 

The painting was an amazing exercise. John and Thomas were methodical and careful, but Sherlock had never done DIY before, and he was keen to do everything at once. Eventually, he was assigned to paint the wall between the door and window. Despite being a plain rectangle with no need for careful edging except at the ceiling and floor, Sherlock still managed to spatter paint all over himself and the drop sheets which (fortunately) were covering all of the floor. Cathy insisted on taking before and after photos of the room, and couldn’t resist some shots of Sherlock with aqua paint in his hair, on his clothes and even on his nose.

By the time Cathy returned to school the bedroom was complete with the nursery furniture that Sherlock and Mycroft had ordered, dozens of nappies had arrived and enough designer clothes for the baby’s first two years filled the wardrobes and chests of drawers. Cathy and John felt that they had unleashed a monster –the two honorary uncles seemed determined to outdo one another in their generosity to a baby who would not even be born for another seven months.

The first thing she had to do on the first day of term was to tell the headmistress that she would be leaving in a few months. 

“If all goes well, I will be able to work until the end of the academic year, but I won’t be coming back at the end of August. My doctor thinks I’m in perfect health, so everything should be fine. I should be able to arrange all of my checkups for the late afternoon so I really don’t expect it to impact on me at school.” 

When Cathy was scheduled for her ultrasound, she and John discussed whether they should take Sherlock along. They had decided that they didn’t want to know the baby’s gender, but Sherlock would no doubt want to know everything about this most anticipated child. If he came along, he would no doubt examine the ultrasound screen, if they didn’t take him, he would want to examine the photographic prints. 

“It doesn’t matter what we do John, he will insist on seeing the photos, we might as well take him with us and give in gracefully. At least it will give the illusion that we had some sort of choice in the whole thing.” 

And so it was that when Mycroft rang to ask for Sherlock’s help of a “matter of national security”, he was advised that it wouldn’t be possible that day, as Sherlock would be busy that afternoon on a “matter of domestic urgency” and then mother, father and ‘uncle’ crowded into the radiologist’s rooms to see the first photos of Baby Watson.

The next day when Sherlock did arrive at Mycroft’s office, he breezily informed his brother that he had been far too busy looking at baby photos to bother with Mycroft’s petty political matters. Mycroft fumed, but conceded that of course, the new baby must take precedence. His colleagues might have thought this to be ironic, but Sherlock knew his brother well enough to detect an honesty which he had not expected. For once, he restrained himself, and did not gloat about the experience, but produced his own copy of the baby photo for Mycroft to share. Sherlock explained that the technician had pronounced the baby to be “just perfect” but that she was uncertain as to whether they were expecting a niece or a nephew. 

“They can find that out at the next scan if they wish. They say they don’t want to, but it feels so strange to call the baby ’it’ instead of ‘him’ or ‘her’. It’s a person Mycroft, a tiny little person and we’re going to be important in its life. THIS is why we need to care, this is why it’s an advantage.”


	3. John's blog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to tell the world.

The blog of John H Watson  
31st January:  
Some of you will already know but now it’s official, Cathy and I are expecting a baby about the last week in July. We are over the moon and our families are excited too. We have had an ultrasound this week and our baby is perfect. They couldn’t tell us yet whether it’s a girl or boy. We have to decide before the next ultrasound in a couple of months whether we want to know. At this stage we think probably not.

Cathy has had a couple of dizzy turns and is now finding the ‘joys’ of morning sickness, but her GP isn’t worried-it’s a nuisance but not serious.

As for me, I’m a mixture of pride, excitement and absolute terror; we’re about to bring a brand new person into the world and I’m just hoping I’m up to the job.

Sherlock is taking the news of his impending uncle-hood well; I don’t think I have seen him more excited about anything that wasn’t a crime. He helped to paint the nursery and keeps finding more baby things to buy every time he leaves the house. This will be the best dressed baby in London! At the moment, our biggest challenge looks to be stopping the baby from being completely spoiled. It’s not a bad problem to have. 

The other aunts and uncles- Harry, Peter, Caroline, Mike, Emma and Mycroft- are also excited but because they aren’t living with us they aren’t as involved yet. 

Cathy’s parents are overjoyed; they already have two gorgeous grandchildren (Hannah and Alexander are Peter and Caroline’s children), so they are taking it all in their stride. I know my own parents would have been thrilled. This would have been their first grandchild. It is at times like this that I miss them all the more. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

From Greg L: It’s great news mate. If I’d only known when I introduced you two... Having children is about the most exciting thing that will ever happen in your whole life. You two will make great parents.

From Molly H: So exciting! I hope Cathy is well soon. My sister had rotten morning sickness with her first but it only lasted a few weeks. After that it was plain sailing. Which hospital will she be in?

Reply: Thanks Molls, she is booked into University College Hospital. It’s close and they have a great reputation. I think Sherlock checked out every maternity hospital in London and gave us a very short list to choose from–UCL was on top of the list. I’m hoping the morning sickness ends soon –she feels wretched but only until about 10am every day.

From Peter G: It seems daunting at first, but the thing to remember all the way through is that you end up with a gorgeous baby. Hannah and Alexander will love having a baby cousin.

From Harry W: I hope Sherlock isn’t buying EVERYTHING the baby needs- he needs to leave some things for the rest of us to buy. Mum and Dad would be so thrilled –I think by now they would have given up all hope of any little Watsons.

**Author's Note:**

> Fortunately, most women don't faint when they are pregnant, but for me it has been the first sympton. Not pleasant, and a dead giveaway, even to people who aren't consulting detectives.  
> I can just imagine Sherlock's scrutiny if he knew that John and Cathy were trying to get pregnant -sometimes it's best to keep secrets, even from your best friend.


End file.
